It’s usually around this time each year when I wonder what we accomplished this summer. Then my next thought is, why do I always feel like I have to accomplish something?

Is there some manual that says parents must be productive 100% of the time? Or an 11^th commandment, “There shall be no rest for parents?” Or do only “good parents” constantly accomplish something?

No, no, and no. Yet, isn’t that how we feel sometimes? If we have any down time, all the undone chores come to mind. Or if Suzie Homemaker down the road has a spotless house, bakes, serves only homecooked healthy meals, and exercises regularly then she’s accomplishing something and we must not be.

It’s amazing how many unspoken measurements we set for ourselves … and usually they are based off of the achievements of someone else. Here’s the thing–God wired all of us differently and we were never meant to be copy cats of the next person. Plus, each family has their own set of values and priorities. So why compare ourselves to the next person? I know, easier said than done.

So I confess … my house is not clean. My floors are overdue on sweeping. Towels lay waiting to be folded. Dust bunnies have had a long overdue party on my furniture. Paperwork lies on my office floor. But instead of cleaning this last weekend I took my own advice from my last entry–we drove to Denver for a family weekend and went to the water park. What fun!

As I see it, I can clean for the rest my life. But my daughter will head off for college in just four short years.

One little boy found me inviting even though I was engrossed in my make-shift office. My diligent work efforts didn’t sway this eight-year-old. He shook my hand, introduced himself, and made conversation with me. He demonstrated his armpit noises and hip cracking abilities. He told me about his gaming applications on his iPhone (they sure learn young, don’t they?), asked about my daughter and whether she was having fun, told me about his “teenager feet” he’ll have one day and the “teenager shoes” he will get (sneakers) … he went on and on, then was off to swim.

As I thought about the little boy and watched the kids frolic in the pool, I scanned the adults (myself included) in the room. What a contrast. The kids were smiling, laughing, and having a ball. Many of the adults read, or sat appearing like they would rather have a root canal, were consumed by their cell phone, or had an occasional conversation with the person next to them.

I looked for the little eight-year-old boy and watched him jump in the pool and come up out of the water with a huge smile on his face. “Watch me,” he said to the lifeguard, but she was focused on her job. That didn’t sway him. He showed her another trick, and another.

I watched as kids were thrilled with life and the adventures in the community pool while many adults appeared to just be watching the clock or focused on what they had to do.

My mind thought back to what a ten-year-old boy said one time, “I don’t want to have children because then you work all the time.”

Is that what we do? Perhaps at times. I know that if I’m not careful, I could spend my days checking off my to-do list. I’m not sure about your list, but mine typically does not contain “have fun” as an item. Perhaps it should.

Yes, we do have responsibilities we must follow through on, laundry must be done, dishes have to be washed, we need an income to pay bills, but shouldn’t there be more to our days in raising our children?  I believe so.

What would change if all us parents added “have fun” to our list of daily obligations? Who knows, maybe we just might discover a little more life in this journey.

When my daughter was in elementary school, she received an assignment to complete a brainstorming list of topics to write about. She had many blanks spaces and complained that she did not know what to write down. As we drove down the street, she announced she had no any ideas for the opinion category. I laughed. For those who personally know my daughter and me, opinions are not lacking in our household.

I began to remind her of the pediatrician who told me at 4 weeks old, that she was clearly opinionated. God wired her with opinions. She freely vocalized them. But at that moment, she could not think of one. That was until a motorcyclist raced past us.

“Mom! Look at that guy on the motorcycle. He is going so fast and he is not wearing a helmet. And he has flip flops on. That is stupid!” she said.

“I think you just found a topic to write down.” I replied.

Yes, we all have opinions. Some people offer theirs to the world more freely, others keep them quiet. Some opinions carry great weight, others ponder trivial matters. But we all have opinions. Before I became a mother, I had all sorts of opinions on parenting. Do you ever notice we seem to be experts in what we have never experienced? Hmmm

Now that my daughter is entering high school this fall, the reality of my inexperience in raising a high schooler is ever before me. I have few opinions on how to correctly parent at this stage, but find my focus more on the short four years I have left to speak into her life before she ventures off to college.

Some days I find myself teaching my daughter opinions and beliefs about every situation we encounter throughout the day, almost like a person on their last breath wanting to get everything out that they never did earlier. She often reminds me that I have already told her. I smile. Repetition is not always bad … 

I am not trying to be overly dramatic, but I do find such incredible importance in making sure as parents we teach our children adequate tools to live productive and fulfilling lives. We cannot assume they will pick up our beliefs and values by osmosis, or that when they become adults they will somehow magically know what to do.

As parents, our teaching opportunities are actually brief in the grand scheme of the lives of our children. It is just a reminder that what we instill in our children, truly matters.

Our world has become so fast paced that standing in line for a few minutes with no one around to serve us seems like an eternity.

Our technology today does not help. Rather than wait for a letter to arrive in the mail, we routinely check email for the quick response. Rather than wait for the scheduled time slot to watch a movie, we search On-Demand and watch whatever we want whenever we want. And that does not even compare to the instant options available to us when it comes to cell phones today. All these gadgets can make us an impatient society bothered by having to wait for anything.

Now, I have to admit I like On-Demand and the quick responses of email but I find that it is hard not to carry the right-now mentality into the rest of my life. Such as:

          Why cannot our children obey instantly?

          Why cannot dogs be instantly trained?

          Instant answers to prayers would be nice.

Unfortunately, life does not work that way. I find the gotta-have-it-right-now attitude rubs against the fabric of how life works and creates a few holes.

At times I am unknowingly edgy when my daughter needs teaching in an area rather than instantly knowing what she should do. I am unnecessarily frustrated at our dog that cannot learn to heel on the first or second walk. And I wonder where God is when I think He has missed a few opportunities to answer my prayers.

I find I need a constant post-it note on my forehead reminding me that much of the best of life comes in the waiting, the discovering, the unearthing, and yes most importantly … the journey.

When I remember this, I find such incredible treasures along the way–my daughter takes flight once she has the tools taught to her that she needs, I learn to rest in the sovereign plan of God knowing that He is in control and I do not have to be. And our dog … well, she is in process and an exercise of my patience at every evening walk. She will catch on soon enough.

What treasure will you discover today?

Music has a way of offering a different focus as you do the unlikable.

As she picks up items off the floor singing away, she stops briefly when the beat hits just right so she can burst into a musical dance break. She grabs an invisible microphone as she watches herself dance in the mirror. As the music flows through the house, I cannot help but bounce, tap, and sway where I am at as well. It is infectious.

I guess it all goes back to where we put our focus. What would happen if we robbed our dislikes of their misery and just turned up the music, let loose, and danced? If you have a teen, the dancing may need to be isolated to your home so no embarrassment is inflicted upon them … or perhaps that is just how my daughter feels.

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m a bit … loud. My laugh can be heard over a crowd, my voice projects when I talk without even trying, and I can’t tell a story without standing up and showing it in action. It’s just how I am. I’ve always been a theatrical storyteller.

We recently returned from our Cancun vacation and were at the hairdressers for my daughter’s haircut. The hairdresser asked about our trip and I couldn’t just leave it at “It was good.” Instead, I began telling her the story of the day we got stuck in a flood on an island and how the next day we got severely drenched waiting 10 minutes for a bus, of which both stories provided plenty of drama itself. But I didn’t just tell the story, I stood up for a few theatrical parts, much to my daughter’s dismay.

I believe it was around the time I was “slopping” behind the salon chair making squishing sound effects as the hairdresser laughed, that my daughter said, “MOM!” and gave me the look of please sit down.

On the ride home, she said, “Mom, your stories are really funny, but let’s face it — you’re rather loud. I think everyone in the salon heard and saw you tell the story.”

I of course laughed and said, “I probably cheered someone up in that room that needed a good laugh today.”

“But we don’t know the rest of those people,” she said.

I proceeded to remind her that this is just how God wired me and the way I’ve always told stories and events. She echoed–much to her dismay–she does the same thing. We both laughed.

Rather than try to be like everyone else, be your uniquely different self. Who knows, you might even brighten someone else’s day.